


The Five Times Marc Kissed Someone

by JustLyra



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLyra/pseuds/JustLyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(& the one time they both liked it...)</p>
<p>5 short drabbles inspired by late night conversation with 994527</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tito

"Ssssshhhhh..." Trying to hush Tito, the noise probably louder than their previous low level conversation, Marc giggled, "Ssshhh!"

"I am ssshhh! You ssshhh!" Prodding Marc in the side, Tito frowned, "I am _ssshhh_."

"Be more ssshhh..." Marc shook his head, hand wobbling as he tried to get the key in the door, "YES!"

"SSSHHH!" Tito hissed, face inches from Marc's, tone indignant, but face amused as he followed Marc through the door, almost tripping over the smaller man, Roser's strict rules about shoe removal obviously so important Marc had become a human trip hazard, both of them giggling loud as Tito wobbled over, Marc's hands stopping him falling on his face as he landed on Marc instead.

"Ooof!" Marc shook his head, trying to pull a sad face whilst pissing himself laughing at Tito's confusion as to how he ended up on the floor, "You're heavy."

"I'm not heavy," Tito pouted, "You are heavy... I am svelte..."

"Isn't that a material? Like for sofas and shoes and bad coats?"

"Coats?"

"Yeah!" Marc screwed up his face, Tito still prone half on top of him, "Like fuzzy..."

"Fuzzy coats?" Tito looked lost, unused to the alcohol, both of them drinking too much, the temptation of no parents and no team too much to resist even though they were both old enough to drink legally, "Why would you want a fuzzy coat?"

"I don't want a fuzzy coat," Leaning back against the wall, given up on Tito moving off his legs, Marc shook his head, "Why would anyone want a fuzzy coat?"

"Who has got a fuzzy coat?"

"I dunno."

"What were we talking about?" Tito shook his head, confused.

Marc shrugged his shoulders, giggling again when Tito almost toppled off his legs, "Fucked if I know."

"Fucked if I know too," Tito giggled, wriggling around, "You are comfy."

"Thanks," Laughing as Tito moved, head dropping down on Marc's shoulder, moving into the touch of Marc's hand on his back, "Hey, guess what. I've got a secret. Not even you know."

"Me too!" Marc grinned, "I'll tell you if you tell me?"

"You first."

"I like boys."

"Me too!"

"I know," Tito frowned again, "You said me first?"

"No!" Marc chuckled, "I like boys too."

"Ah!" Tito smiled, "It's shit though. Can't tell anyone."

"You can tell me," Marc nodded, both of them grinning, "I won't tell anyone."

Pausing for a second Tito smiled, before biting his lip as Marc moved closer, their mouths touching, featherlight at first before more; tongue and more, before Marc cackled, pulling away, Tito frowning, Marc shaking his head, "That was weird."

"Yeah," Tito grimaced, wishing it was polite to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, "Let's not do that again."

Marc laughed, knocking Tito off his legs, "Deal!"

"I like boys, but I don't like you," Tito shook his head, not sure if he should be disappointed that kissing the guy so many people wanted to kiss had made him feel queasy in a bad way or glad that he was never likely to fall for Marc now he knew he didn't want to kiss him.

Frowning at Tito, the taller man still lying on the floor, Marc chuckled, finger against his lips, "SSSHHH!"


	2. Jorge

"Mature..." Marc snorted under his breath, laughing at the glare he got from his rival for daring to comment about his handshake refusal.

*

"Watch it... Fucking hell..." Slamming his bottle down on the table Jorge glowered at Marc as he reached for a napkin.

Holding his hand up in apology, trying not to laugh, Marc shook his head, "Sorry!"

"I'm sure..." Patting his shirt, Jorge sighed, "This is hopeless."

Wincing as Jorge stormed into the toilets Marc sighed, putting his bottle down and following, never liking bad feeling with anyone, "Look I am sorry."

"Whatever."

Looking at Jorge, shirtless as he tried to dry the damp patch, Marc shook his head, "Seriously, let me buy you another drink."

"It's fine."

"Jorge," Drowned out by the hand drier Marc moved closer, Jorge glaring again as he brushed past his back, "I don't want there to be bad feeling, that's not my kind of thing."

"Of course not," Jorge chuckled dryly, "Wouldn't want to dent that PR perfect image."

Marc pouted, "Hey! It's not like that!

"Sorry... I must be getting you mixed up with the guy who nearly punted me off track and then knocked a drink all over me..." Jorge shook his head, sarcastic smile on his face.

"You went wide the second time," Marc maintained with a shrug of the shoulders, "Not my fault if you wanted to swap paint."

"Fuck off..." Moving to push past Jorge raised an eyebrow when Marc caught his arm, air around them suddenly stifling and hot, Marc, the bravest or most reckless, moving first, mouth crashing onto Jorge's, Jorge manoeuvring them into the cubicle, door held shut by a foot.

Marc screwed his eyes closed, losing himself in the sweet taste of beer, salad dressing and blood from his bitten lip, Jorge's hands on his hips, pushing him against the cold tiled wall, his hands tangled in Jorge's shirt, pulling him closer as their tongues licked into each other's mouths, bossy and battling for dominance as their crotches, cocks hard and constrained by denim, rubbed against each other, both of them with burning lungs, air stolen by the other.

Marc's eyes went wide as suddenly a hand clamped over his mouth, Jorge's eyes locked on his, him wondering if his looked as wide an terrified at the sound of someone's feet walking in, the door of the next cubicle banging shut and the lock clicking into place. The noises echoed around the tiled walls as the both tried to hold their breath, fearful of making a sound as the other person pulled down their zip, took a piss, pulled the zip up and left without washing their hands, both of them briefly grimacing about the mingingness before their attention came back to where they were, in a grubby cubicle, with their rival whose tongue they'd sucked and whose cock they'd felt.

" _Fuck_..." His voice unusually quiet Marc slumped against the wall, taking a gasp of air as Jorge's hand let him go.

Looking Marc up and down, trying to evaluate the level of _what the fuck_ , Jorge frowned, looking like he was going to speak before opening the door, walking out, trying to pretend he'd just been sorting his shirt.

*

Holding out his hand, Marc sighed hard at the cursory shake from Jorge, relations between them ridiculous, Jorge avoiding him even more than normal, him fearing being outed every time Hector had his ' _There's an article..._ ' face on.

"Why are you worrying?" Tito frowned later, in the bar where they were having their one beer each, "It's not like he's going to say anything."

"He might," Marc pondered, genuinely scared of the idea of anyone finding out, "He hates me enough."

"Well what's he going to say?" Tito shrugged, his matter of fact tone irritating Marc.

"He might fucking tell everyone that I'm gay," Marc hissed, slamming his bottle down on the bar, seriously considering giving into the doe eyed girl at the end of the bar just to make a story.

"Yeah," Tito chuckled, dismissively shaking his head, "I'm sure he can't wait to tell everyone how you kissed the face off him in the toilets and how you were grinding against each other... because **_that story_** will be **all** about you. Won't it?"

"Well..." Voice faltering, Marc realised that, as always, Tito was right, Jorge had as much to lose as him, "Fuck..."

"Don't fuck him," Tito smirked, "That'll make _everything_ worse."

"Fuck you," Marc laughed, suddenly able to relax, realising he didn't have to be scared about Jorge, flicking Tito, who was laughing too hard, the finger, glad he had a sensible friend.


	3. Emilio

"I won!" Throwing his arms around Emilio's neck for the twenty-seventh time that night Marc exuded happiness, and several beers, dropping his voice to a quiet, amazed, emotional softness, "I won Emilio, I _won_...."

Clapping Marc on the back, aware that the pre-season fears that had haunted the end of 2011 were firmly lodged in a lump in Marc's throat, Emilio nodded, "You did. You are fine, and you won."

"I thought it was over..." Emotion making his voice sound different, Marc trembled in Emilio's hold, "I thought...."

One hand on the back to Marc's neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles, Emilio tightened his grip, "It's alright Marc, it's alright..."

"So close...." Marc's words were sobbed out, Emilio's shoulder starting to feel damp, "Lost it all.... Everything.... Couldn't see...."

"Hey hey," Letting Marc slide them down to the floor, everyone else next door and enjoying the party, the bass making the wall vibrate against his back, Emilio shuffled them round, a lap full of Marc heavy, but firm arms around the heaving, sobbing bundle necessary, "You are ok now... Everything is ok."

"I ddddddidn't think it would bbbbbbeeeee ok," Bum on the cold floor between Emilio's legs, hands inside his sleeves, head tucked under Emilio's chin, Marc's last grasp of control snapped, "I thought it was all gone."

"It's ok, **you're** ok," Wrapping his arms tighter as the sobs switched into a wail; the fear, devastation and trauma that Marc had hidden with a cheeky smile and a promise of being Alex's umbrella boy if his own career was finished finally surfaced. Blinking hard to prevent the tear in his eye from dropping onto Marc's head Emilio pressed a soft kiss into Marc's hair, "You are going to be fine Marc. You are going to go to MotoGP and you are going to take them all by storm. They'll see you and they'll say your are the next Rossi, or the next Stoner, or the next whoever and you are going to laugh, grin and elbow your way past them all until they realise that you are Marc Marquez, you are not the next anybody."

"Emilio," Wails dropping to an exhausted whine, his body still shaking, cheeks damp with tears and his eyes puffy and red, Marc looked even younger than his years when he looked up at his mentor, "You think I can do it? MotoGP?"

Emilio sighed, smile on his face as he nodded, thumb brushing away a tear from Marc's face, "I **know** you can..."

"Thank you for everything," Marc sniffed, his dark eyes burning into Emilio's face, the older man trying not to look the way he bit his lip, "For looking after me."

Closing his eyes as Marc leant into kiss him, closed mouthed, chaste, the younger man testing the water, Emilio smiled, placed another kiss on Marc's forehead, turning them back to younger man and mentor, ignoring any twitching in his body, that potential PR disaster one for Marc to face further down the line with someone who could offer him far more than he could, Emilio nodded, "That's my job... Now go wash your face and let's get back to the party, you've got a Moto2 title to celebrate."

"Emilio..."

Emilio swallowed hard, Marc's eyes eager, knowing he could suggest they go elsewhere, that he could know the feeling of Marc's swollen, bitten lips against his, that he could know the feeling of Marc's mouth elsewhere... Ruffling Marc's hair with one hand Emilio kept his voice soft, but firm, "Come on, it's your party..."

"Ok," Disappointed Marc pulled himself from the floor, looking back as Emilio groaned as his bones creaked as he moved, realising that once again Emilio had put him first, making him smile, "Need a hand old man?"

"Fuck off cheeky!"


	4. Paula? Pamela? It began with a P...

Flopping onto his bed, Alex asleep in the other bunk, Marc sighed, hard and loud, his brain whirring round and round, wishing it would stop and let him fall asleep, even though he still had all his clothes on.

"What's up with you?" Yawning, his voice laced with sleep, Alex leant over the edge of the beds, flicking the soft lamp on, both of them still swearing at the sudden burst of light.

Marc shook his head, kicking off his shoes, wincing as one clattered to the floor, waiting for his parents to hear it, row him for disturbing them all on a weekend where they finally had some peace from racing, "Nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, neither bed _his_ , first to bed taking the top bunk to save you getting a foot in the face from the other, Alex slid down onto the bottom bunk next to Marc, "Was the party shit?"

Giggling at the sound of Alex swearing, the 12-year-old certainly quieter than he was, Marc shook his head, "Nah, it was quite good actually."

"So why you huffing like you were leading in the last corner and fell off?" Tucking his feet under the duvet, both of them on their sides so that they fitted, Alex pondered, "Is it a girl?"

Marc sighed, kicking his jeans off and sliding under the cover in his boxers and t-shirt, reaching to flick the light off, easier to lie to Alex in the dark, "Nah it's..."

"You've got a hickey," Alex giggled, "There was a girl..."

Blushing in the dark Marc kicked Alex, both of them freezing when Alex yelped, waiting to see if their parents would wake, neither breathing for a few seconds until Marc sighed, "Yeah, there was a girl."

"What was she called?" Alex's tone was teasing, Marc always blushing pillar box red whenever anyone mentioned girls, especially if they teased him about a lack of girlfriends.

Marc frowned, his brain suddenly blank, "Erm Paula? Pamela? It definitely began with a P..."

" _Marc_!" Alex giggled hard, everything funnier when you were 12, "You didn't even know her name! That's **_outrageous_**!"

Closing his eyes Marc thought about the girl, easily able to remember that she was dark haired, smaller than him, but her face was a blur. The kiss was... he couldn't even think what it was, even with Alex pushing for details he couldn't think of much to say.

The music was loud, and typically teenage, Marc was set up with the girl by his cousin and it was almost inevitable that they ended up out on the balcony, standing opposite each other, both looking awkward, neither knowing what to say. Eventually she took the lead, taking Marc's hand, pulling it around her waist, making him step closer until she was looking up at him, fake eyelashes fluttering, him taking a breath and leaning in.

Stickiness, that was Marc's overriding memory. Sticky, plasticky lipgloss that was smudging all over his lips, creeping into his mouth with her tongue, which didn't so much lick into his mouth as push in, then just hung there, weird and intrusive. Her hands were cold under his shirt and Marc felt almost obliged to move one hand under hers, resting on her breast, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do with it.

When they were interrupted she rolled her eyes and swore, Marc smiled, concurring, but secretly being relieved, spending the next hour on the sofa, her on his lap, her lipgloss invading his face, finally realising what he'd been trying to avoid so badly since his cock almost exploded at the sight of _him_ in the last race.

"Are you ok?" Alex enquired.

Marc nodded, then remembered they were in the dark, "Yeah."

"Marc?"

"What?"

"Are you sad because you like boys more than girls?"

"Alex!"

"What?" Alex huffed, wondering why the world was so dramatic when you were 15, "It's alright you know, it doesn't matter who you like..."

Marc scoffed, "What do you know?!"

"I read the rule book," Alex pouted, "You are allowed to be gay in MotoGP. So you don't have to worry, you'll be fine."

Marc sighed, Alex's naivety making him wish he was 12 again, "Yeah, right, whatever."

"You are going to be MotoGP champion, even if you are gay, you'll see," Tucking the duvet under his chin Alex snuggled into his big brother, completely confident in Marc's talent, gay or not.

Chewing on his lip, wishing he could be so confident, wondering if Alex would always have so much faith in him, Marc snuggled down, praying that his brother was right, happy to be wrong, just this once.


	5. DANI PEDROSA!!!!

Getting out of the taxi Marc looked at the apartment building, his tummy flip-flopping back and forth.

_I'm in Geneva to visit DANI PEDROSA!_

Shaking his head, trying to maintain a modicum of dignity, he grabbed his bag and tried to walk confidently towards the building, pretending that ringing the bell and waiting for _Dani_ to answer was no big deal.

"Hey," Dani smiled warmly, stepping back to let Marc in, sharing general chit-chat as he gave Marc the tour of his home, politely ignoring Marc's eyes bulging as he caught sight of the one photo frame holding photos of Dani's proudest racing moments, leading them both to the kitchen where he pressed buttons on his coffee machine then sat opposite Marc, smiling kindly, waiting for Marc's new-found muteness to leave, "Good flight?"

"Yeah..." Looking around Marc smiled, "This is lovely... Thank you for inviting me here. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," Dani blew on his coffee, trying to cool it, "I know it can get a bit manic in Spain, it takes a while to get used to it."

Marc let out a sigh, "I'm not sure I ever will. There are people outside my house... They've picked my mum's flowers and have put pictures of them with _Marc Marquez's flowers_ on instagram..."

"There are some mad fans out there," Dani laughed softly, jumping off the stool, rummaging in a cupboard and putting a bottle of whisky on the counter, "Sounds like coffee isn't going to cut it..."

*

"Yeah, but..." Marc wobbled onto the sofa, laughing at Dani almost falling off, "YOU are Dani Pedrosa! That's why they were outside your house... I'm NOT Dani Pedrosa..."

Frowning, Dani looked Marc up and down, several times, before giggling, "Nope, you are definitely not Dani Pedrosa!"

"Too tall," Marc nodded smug.

Grabbing Marc's glass from him, downing the glug of whisky, Dani pouted at Marc, "You don't get to drink my drinks if you insult me."

"But," Marc's jaw dropped, outraged, "It's not insulting if it's **true**..."

"Pfft," Dani shook his head, turning away from Marc, both of them far more drunk than sensible, "Not speaking to you."

"Daniiiiiii..." Marc put his head on Dani's shoulder, voice happy, "It's ok to be little... You are the bestest at being little..."

"I'm not little!" Dani turned, pouncing on Marc, both of them wincing as the glass bounced onto the floor, somehow not shattering, making them laughed, "I'm not _little_..."

Giggling, so hard he could hardly take a breath, Marc wriggled in Dani's hold, his wrists pinned to the sofa by his head, " _Daniiiiiiii_ lemmego!"

"Not til you say I'm not little," Legs battling behind them, Dani still stronger than Marc, testament to his many seasons in MotoGP compared to Marc's one, Dani shook his head, mock seriousness on his face, "I'm not little..."

Both of them froze, Marc looking between them and biting his lip, "Sorry... I..."

"Marc...." Dani faltered, closing his eyes when Marc's hips twitched again, the younger man blushing hard, the movement instinctive.

"I... I..." Marc bit his lip hard, Dani leaning over him, eyes closed, breathing slowly, their bodies pressed together, not helping him persuade his cock to behave **_at all_** , his voice turning into a tiny whimper, " _Dani_..."

Crashing their mouths together Dani could hear sensible thoughts drumming through his brain; he's too young, he's your teammate, he's not gay, he's drunk... Ignoring them as Marc's mouth instantly opened under his, their tongues meeting and tangling, Marc's hips twitching harder as he moaned softly under Dani. Releasing his grip on Marc's wrist Dani tangled one hand in Marc's hair, moving his head slightly, bettering the angle, stealing more of their breath with hot, wet mouths clamped together as Marc's hands moved to Dani's back, fingers digging in.

*

"Hi..." Dani smiled, slightly awkward, as Marc padded into the kitchen, his hair sleep tousled, wearing just black boxers and a white t-shirt, making Dani swear internally.

Pausing at the end of the breakfast bar Marc took a breath, him having laid in bed for 45 minutes trying to work out what to say, "Morning..."

"Coffee?" Reaching over to start the machine, his own coffee gone cold as he tried to work out what to say to Marc; aware that jumping off the sofa, yelling 'YOU'RE TOO DRUNK TO FUCK' and locking his bedroom door wasn't the best way to handle things the night before.

Marc nodded, "Please..."

"No problem," Fiddling with the coffee machine, aware of Marc's eyes burning into his back, Dani sighed, turning back, guilty look on his face, "Marc... I..."

"I'm gay," Marc shrugged, the outburst not quite what he'd planned, biting his lip, "So please stop looking so guilty..."

"Right," Dani nodded, Marc's confession making him feel slightly better, but considerably more confused, "Well I'm gay too."

"Really?" Marc looked stunned, somehow Dani sticking his tongue in his mouth not giving that away.

"Yes, really," Dani smiled kindle, shrugging his shoulders, "How many straight men accost you that that's a surprise?"

"Well..." Marc laughed, waving his hands towards his body, "You know, they just can't help themselves...."

"Idiot," Shaking his head Dani leant back on the unit, folding his arms then quickly unfolding them, worried Marc would think it was some sort of defensive gesture, "So, drunk kisses..."

"Yeah," Marc blushed, biting his lip again, unaware that the gesture has tormented Dani all season long, "Can I be honest?"

"Of course," Dani smiled, relieved Marc wanted to speak first, not caring that that was cowardly.

"I would have kissed you sober," Cheeks bright red, voice almost stammering, Marc closed his eyes, speaking fast "I like you, and I didn't know you were gay, and I know that being gay doesn't mean you like me, but..."

Cutting Marc off Dani pressed his lips against Marc, his hands finding Marc's hips, the kiss chaste and soft, Dani smiling as he pulled away, Marc's eyes fluttering open, pupils wide, "I would have kissed you sober too...."

"Well..." Marc smiled, his trademark cheeky grin, "I'd kiss you quite a lot..."

Dani laughed, nodding, the silent _me too_ making Marc want to run around in celebration, settling instead for leaning down, kissing Dani again, kiss quickly leaving chaste as Marc licked into Dani's mouth, his lungs burning as he was too excited to breath, his brain screaming _I'M KISSING DANI PEDROSA!!!!!_

Keeping their mouths locked together, tongues swirling the taste of copper around their mouths as the kiss got harder, harsher, the only noise in the room them, Marc's hands pulling at Dani's shirt, Dani's sliding under Marc's waistband, Marc wailing into Dani's mouth as a single finger traced his crack, Dani walking them backwards at the happy reaction, manoeuvring them toward the bedroom, Marc's brain screaming again DANI PEDROSA IS KISSING ME BACK!!!!


End file.
